


Asleep: Drunk Jean and Kittens Edition

by Python07



Series: Asleep [4]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Asshole Cats, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:20:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23930710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Python07/pseuds/Python07
Summary: Jean has had a bad day, acquires a new kitten, and takes it to Armand.
Relationships: Armand Jean du Plessis de Richelieu/de Tréville (Trois Mousquetaires)
Series: Asleep [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1108626
Kudos: 45





	Asleep: Drunk Jean and Kittens Edition

Jean sat in the darkest corner he could find at the pub. He sat with his back to the wall and his boots up onto the chair across from him. He’d already downed half a bottle of wine in an effort not to remember her pleading, tearful eyes and the crying infant she clutched to her chest.

//“Please, Treville."//

Jean squeezed his eyes shut. The wine turned sour in his mouth and belly. He chased it with more of the sweet stuff.

//“Please. He can’t mean it.”//

Jean planted his elbows on the table and buried his head in his hands. He scrubbed his palms over his eyes. Then he ran both hands through his hair and rubbed the back of his neck.

//“You can’t leave us here.”//

Jean did just that. He gave her the bag of coins Belgard sent for them and another from himself and De Foix. He tried for an encouraging smile but it came out as a pained grimace instead. He couldn’t bare to meet her gaze any longer. He hung his head and tried not to choke on the shame.

//“It’s okay, Treville. We both know him. I don’t blame you. I can see how much this hurts you.”//

Jean nodded gruffly. He turned away. He ran. For once in his life, he felt like a coward.

“You mind if I sit down?” a familiar voice asked tentatively.

Jean made a show of staring down into his cup. He took his time, swirling the liquid around. He downed it and reached for the bottle. He filled his cup to the brim. Then he tipped the bottle up to his mouth to get the few swallows at the bottom.

“Jean?”

Jean slammed the bottle back down on the table. He didn’t look up. “Piss off,” he growled.

A second bottle appeared next to the first. “Peace offering.”

Again, Jean didn’t look up. He made a rude gesture. “I said piss off, De Foix.”

“We didn’t have a choice, Jean,” De Foix whispered raggedly.

Jean gulped half his cup. He kept his eyes on the tabletop. “There’s always a choice. Aren’t you tired of doing Belgard’s dirty work?” His fingered tightened into a white-knuckle grip. “I know I am.”

“He would’ve killed them,” De Foix hissed.

“You really think so?”

De Foix sounded defeated. “Yes. He can be a ruthless bastard. He won’t lose his inheritance over something so insignificant as a whore and her child.”

Jean glared up at him. “Gaston!”

“You can hear him saying it, as clear as a bell.” De Foix’s shoulders slumped. “It doesn’t feel like it but we saved them.”

Jean lowered his eyes. His voice was rough, barely audible. “I know.” He finished his cup and refilled it. “I know.”

“It doesn’t make it any easier.” De Foix cleared his throat and tried for a lighter tone. “I’ve a gift for you.”

A dark gray kitten joined the bottles sitting on the table. He peered at him with green eyes. Then he rolled onto his back and played with his tail.  
Jean rubbed at his gritty eyes. “What’s that?”

De Foix knocked Jean’s feet off the other chair and dropped into it. “What does it look like? Cook’s cat finally had her litter and he can’t keep all of them.”

Jean reached to stroke the kitten’s belly and he batted at his fingers with his tiny paws. “Why bring it to me?”

De Foix just smirked.

Small teeth gnawed on his finger and Jean rolled his eyes. “No.”

De Foix grabbed the bottle. He watched Jean for a long moment and took a swig. He continued smirking.

“No.”

De Foix arched an eyebrow at him.

Jean cursed under his breath. He picked the kitten up by the scruff of the neck. He regarded it as he would a prospective enemy. “Fine.”

DeFoix laughed and grabbed the cup for himself. “I’ll cover for you in the morning and you’re welcome.”

“You’re too kind,” Jean mumbled and smacked De Foix in the back of the head on his way out.

It took Jean twice as long to walk to Armand’s building as usual, but he didn’t really notice. He was flushed and warm from all the wine. The kitten rested inside his shirt, against his stomach. At least this one wasn’t trying to scratch at him or trying to escape. This one couldn’t be as sweet as Madeira, but hopefully not as spiteful as Little Shit or combative as Le Tigre. At least Le Tigre earned his keep with all the mice he caught. Little Shit only existed to make his life hell.

He finally made it to Armand’s door. He caught himself just in time and didn’t pound on the door. Instead, he knocked at a normal volume. He didn’t get an answer. He pressed his ear to the door but couldn’t hear anything.

He leaned against the wood and fumbled for the key hanging on a chain around his neck. It took three tries but he got the key in the lock. He slipped inside Armand’s darkened apartment. The only light came from the low fire.

Armand was asleep in bed. Little Shit and Madeira were laying together on their pillow by the fire. Le Tigre was nowhere to be seen. 

Madeira got up right away to come and greet Jean. She walked between his legs. She sat in front of him and looked up at him expectantly.

Jean crouched down and scratched behind her ears. She purred and pushed into his hand. He chuckled and pulled the new kitten from out of his shirt. “Madeira, this is…” He frowned. “What do you think? What should we call this one?”

Madeira put her paws on Jean’s hand. She sniffed the newcomer. She licked him in welcome.

Jean pet her with his free hand. “Musket? Blade? Gray? He’s the color of Soot. Sooty? No, that’s stupid.” His head was beginning to hurt. “How about Ash. Okay, I like Ash. Madeira, meet Ash. Ash, this lady is Madeira.” He nodded to Little Shit watching him wearily. “The asshole over there is Little Shit. Watch out for him. He’ll hiss at you as soon as look at you. The other one is Le Tigre. He’s probably out hunting.”

Jean gently and clumsily set Ash on the floor with Madeira. He staggered but managed to straighten up. He approached the bed to find Armand still fast asleep. 

Armand’s curls were spread out over his pillow. He had one arm over his head. The blanket covered his lower half and his night shirt was open at the neck.

Before he could even think about it, Jean crawled on the bed next to Armand. He stared at him, listened to him breathe. Armand was so soft and open this way and he was captivated. Those parted lips called to him. He leaned in close and suddenly there was a bundle of black fur in his face.

Jean jerked back and glared at Little Shit standing between him and Armand. “Wh—” He barely stopped himself from shouting. “What are you doing, Little Shit?” he hissed furiously.  
Little Shit hissed right back at him, just as venomously. His hair stood up on his back. His tail was fluffed up.

“Move.”

Little Shit bared his teeth. He swiped at Jean with his claws.

“Look, Shithead, I’ve had a bad day.” Jean attempted to grab the cat and got deep scratch marks on his hand. He dropped Little Shit before the cat could sink his teeth in. He shook his hand out. “I wonder if anyone’s ever punched a cat.”

Little Shit looked unmoved. He sniffed disdainfully.

“Okay,” Jean admitted heavily. “I probably smell like a winery.”

Little Shit stared at Jean as if he agreed.

Jean backed off the bed and started to strip. “I had to do something bad today.” His mouth was dry and he swallowed hard. “I didn’t have a choice.” He shook his head and looked at Armand. “He must’ve had a long day, too. He’s normally a light sleeper.”

Little Shit didn’t move from his guard position. His eyes followed Jean’s every movement.

“Okay, I won’t wake him, you blasted beast,” Jean grumbled as bent down to get rid of his boots. “At least let me sleep next to him.” He lost his balance and fell over. It didn’t hurt. He kicked out of the rest of his clothes He climbed to his knees and rested against the edge of the bed. “I’ll let him sleep, Shithead.”

Jean rolled onto the bed. Little Shit was now laying on Armand’s chest. He had his head down on his paws. He was still, but not relaxed. He never took his focus from Jean.

Jean huffed. He slowly took Armand’s hand and brought it to his lips. Then, he settled on his back. He shut his eyes and sighed, “Good night, Little Shit. You’ve won this round, but in the morning, he’s mine.”


End file.
